This is an exquisitely crafted book with a subtle balance of black comedy and intriguing mystery which was difficult to second guess. Suffused with an indefinable sense of quirkiness Laurain entertains with his masterful story telling.
A mystery identity threatens to put the ‘who’ into ‘dunnit’ and the world of publishing and book awards is slightly mocked, although in a very loving way.
‘When the manuscript of a debut crime novel arrives at a Parisian publishing house, everyone in the readers’ room is convinced it’s something special - and the committee for France’s highest literary honour, The Prix Goncourt, agrees.
But when the prize shortlist is announced, there’s a problem for editor Violiane Lepage: she has no idea of the author’s identity. As the police begin to investigate a series of murders strangely reminiscent of those in the book, Violiane is not the only one looking for answers. And she’s beginning to wonder what role she might play in the story …’
Having read that blurb and believing yourself prepared for what follows it was riveting to begin a book that opens with the protagonist in the company of Marcel Proust and Virginia Woolf! Sure to capture the attention and imagination of literary folk right away! That opening delighted me and the delight didn’t cease throughout the book.
A crisp narrative that never falters along with the intrigue of the premise particularly when the police come a-looking for Violaine. Little incidents and events of eccentricity are intertwined amidst the main thrust of the potential crime suffused with a smattering of romance balanced by a need for retribution.
One has to admire Laurain’s ability to come up with a fairly convoluted plot that he deals with so concisely in a book that is possibly half the length of some similar plots of complexity. And there’s no sense of being short changed.
His characterisations enjoy the same skill as his plot and narrative, there’s a sense of completeness about the characters he depicts especially Violaine.
I suppose I found the ending slightly anti climactic but I suspect I was enjoying the book so much I wanted it to go on for longer! And I’m not sure there was anywhere else for the story to go without comprising its integrity. All was explained.
Let us not forget the work of the translators here - Jane Aitken, Emily Boyce and Polly Mackintosh - who have sustained, throughout, the essence of Antoine Laurain.
My thanks to Isabelle at Gallic Books for a gifted copy.
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